Housewife
by EverybodyLovesAYeti
Summary: Written for Age of Edward contest. "A good wife always knows her place" Bella's always been the perfect housewife. Who ever said Edward wanted obedience?


-1**Age of Edward Contest**

Title: Housewife

Penname: HypocrisyandSINcerity

Type of Edward: 1950's

Disclaimer: Alas, I have about six bucks in my savings account and student loans accumulating on my kitchen counter. I do not own Twilight.

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Authors Note: Hello. I have a few things I'd like to say before we start.

First, this is dedicated to my lovely friend Brie (a.k.a. Folklorn) for being the one to give me a swift kick in the arse that got this big ball rolling. I'd also like to thank Jen (a.k.a. HappyTwilighter/HRHLadyEsme) for being fantabulous and correcting my many grammatical/punctuation errors.

Second, I warn you all now, I've never written a lemon before. I've found smut is not something that comes easily to me either. So, try to be gentle.

Third, (this is the last thing, I promise!) this lemon was not written to arouse or ruin panties. It's more emotional than sexual (if that makes any sense). This is bittersweet, so please don't go into this looking for random smut, k? Thanks.

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**Housekeeping Monthly**, circa 1955 (published May 13):

Don't ask him questions about his actions or question his judgment or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always exercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.

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"Good evening, Edward. How was your day at work?" Her voice monotone, her large smile forced her garish red painted lips apart. I frowned at her. She responded properly, as every woman was trained to do since childhood.

The smile, full of teeth, was replaced with a furrowed brow and concern colored eyes. Those big doe-brown eyes I had loved so much had lost their luster in the days since our marriage. '_What ever happened to my beautiful Bella?'_

She caressed my shoulder with a gentle hand, and for a moment I thought she had returned, but I was left wallowing when all she did was pluck a piece of lint from my suit jacket. I hefted a huge sigh and pushed my way past her towards the kitchen.

"What's for dinner?" I groused, shoving my face into my hands as I heard the click of high-heeled shoes on the linoleum floor. Those blasted heels. I glared down at the red monstrosities adorning her feet. '_I had always liked it better when you walked around barefoot,__Bella.'_

In the beginning of our relationship when everything was new, we had been happy. We had everything. Bella would dance and sing in the fields behind my parents' house. She climbed trees and splashed in the brook. She didn't care what anyone thought of her and for a while I thought she was invincible, that _we_ were invincible.

'_But Bella doesn't do that anymore. Bella doesn't do anything anymore._'

I let my eyelids slide closed and a sense of defeat washed over me. '_My Bella's not coming back.'_ It forced my bowing head down and consuming my shoulders, they sagged under the weight. My heart gave a last defiant tug before settling into a subjugated beat. My stomach flipped in resistance and squeezed tight, holding onto that last shred of hope before it too, was conquered.

I realized that in the matter of minutes I had been sitting there here, resigning myself to my defeat, Bella had not said anything. Instead she stood by the sink, her hands clutching the edge of the ugly avocado porcelain. She was staring at the pie cooling on the windowsill.

"Bella?" I knew my voice sounded hollow and I cringed away from the noise that hung in the dead air between us. I saw her shoulders shake once and I watched as a pale, dainty hand darted up to swipe at her face. '_They never used to be pale. You used to like digging in the dirt and tending to your plants, even though they never lived very long and I always made fun of you. I wish I hadn't now. _'

The metal legs of the chair made a loud screeching sound as I pushed back from the table. I took a tentative step towards my wife. When she made no movement or sound I continued, placing one foot in front of the other, until I stood directly behind her.

I raised a hesitant hand to her shoulder, pausing shortly before placing it on the delicate fabric that covered her skin. I moved a rough, callused thumb over the silky yellow and white fabric. I inched closer until I could feel the heat radiating from her lithe frame.

"Bella?" This time my voice did not sound so hollow. Her little body leaned imperceptibly closer to my chest. My other hand, dangling at my side, moved of it's own accord to rest upon her slender waist.

A strangled noise escaped from her delicate throat. I let my chin rest atop her head and resisted the urge to bury my face in the softly scented, brown curls. The hand resting at her waist moved to wrap around her gentle figure and settled at the other side. The hand upon on her shoulder slid slowly down until I was clutching her porcelain fingers in my own. I could feel the dampness that lingered on her fingertips, from the tears that had rested on her cheeks. I had encompassed her fully with my body.

"Bella…" I whispered. The wistful nature of my voice must have triggered something because a dam burst and I could feel her shaking against me. A forceful sob racked her fragile body. She tugged her hand from beneath mine to cover her mouth, muffling the heartbreaking sounds.

My arm, still wrapped around her, gave a gentle squeeze. Lifting my hand from the edge of the sink I brought it to her neck, curling my fingers slightly, I gently moved the hair from the side of the pale column of her throat. I lowered my head to place a soft, endearing kiss to the sensitive skin just behind her ear.

"Stop." Her voice strangled in her throat, pushed past her gentle tongue, through gnashing teeth and quivering lips. I lifted my mouth from her neck to rest my lips against her ear.

"What is it Bella?" She shivered as my warm, moist breath washed over the delicate skin and cartilage.

"I'm sick of this." She sounded so sad, so…_desolate_. I could just barely see, around the apple of her cheek, the tremble of her lips. Her bright white teeth worried the delicate, supple skin of her lower lip.

Bringing my hand from it's place tangled in her hair, I used my thumb to pull the flesh gently from it's torturous spot.

"What are you sick of?" I attempted to make my voice soft, soothing. She shivered and her dark lashes settled against the swell of her cheek. Crystalline tears slipped from beneath the curve of those lashes. I watched as they trailed slowly down her cheek to rest upon her lips. Her gentle tongue slipped past it's barrier to swipe at the moisture.

I curled myself further around her until I could touch my lips softly to the pale apple of her cheek. I pulled away, but her sadness lingered on my lips. My own tongue darted out to wipe it away, the taste of her melancholy; salty and bitter.

"I'm doing it _wrong_." I knew my face showed my profound confusion. Though I knew she was no longer _my_ Bella, the one I had fallen in love with years ago, I still cared for her. Her dejected disposition concerned me.

When she looked over at me, at the confusion that marred my face, she heaved a great sigh as if she was completely and utterly exhausted. Her gaze flitted to the window, to the darkened scenery beyond. Her eyes followed the gentle bow of the trees and the sway of the grass in the wind of the coming storm. The dark clouds, sinister, engulfed the sky. For a moment I forgot completely about the lost woman in my arms and our struggling marriage, I forgot my own defeat, but her quick movements abruptly brought be back.

She pulled the pie from the window sill and set it on the counter. Reaching, she slid the window over the sink closed. I continued to stare out through the glass long after she had stepped out of my arms, hoping for that escape to come back. As the rain began to fall, pelting the window with heavy drops, I finally allowed myself to move.

I followed the soft sounds of the television from the kitchen, across the hall, and into the living room. Bella sat, perched, in her little wooden rocking chair, mending another of my work shirts. Her eyes were rimmed with red from her previous crying. She sniffled slightly but continued to rock gently, the needle between her fingers glinting in the soft lamp-light.

'_This is what we have become,__Bella?_' I clenched my teeth and I could feel a muscle in my jaw twitch. I crossed the carpeted area to come to a stop just before her sniffling form. Kneeling before her, I tenderly took the shirt and needle from her fingers. She watched me curiously, her face guarded. I set the items on the floor beside her chair and, leaning forward, I pressed my face against her bosom. My arms wrapped around her waist, her own hung limply at her sides. When she didn't respond after several moments, I crushed my face further into her chest and squeezed my eyes shut tighter and tighter, until it hurt. '_Please Bella, feel __**something**__._'

My heart palpitated furiously against my ribcage. I squeezed her tighter, my breath coming in harsh pants and washing over her chest. Finally she moved, raising her hands as if to push me away, and a strangled noise escaped from my ever tightening throat. I swallowed against the thick emotion rising in my windpipe.

Her hands still resting against my shoulders, slid until they rested against the middle of my back. Lowering her head, she laid a gentle kiss atop mine, her soft curls billowing out around us and settling in a curtain, shielding us.

She hummed a gentle, nonsensical, tune while rocking our bodies. The bitter-sweetness of the moment was not lost on me. My face slowly loosened from its tight arrangement and my features relaxed the longer our bodies moved together.

A shaky sigh escaped my mouth and fluttered across the delicate silk of her dress. I pressed a shuddering kiss to the soft skin showing just above the neckline. Keeping my lips there, I reveled in the gentle thrum of her heartbeat.

"Why are you doing this to me?" It was whispered softly and I wasn't entirely sure it was meant for me to hear.

I finally pulled my lips away from her skin, only to rest my forehead against the sharp peaks of her collarbone.

"What am I doing? You need to tell me, Bella." My own voice cracked as I forced her name from my mouth.

"Why are you loving me?" She brought a hand to my hair and, resting it at my crown, she smoothed her fingers through the unruly mess.

"I don't know." It was probably the most honest statement I had uttered to my wife in the past several months.

"I'm doing it wrong." This was the second time tonight she had made that statement but I was still unsure as to what she was referring.

"What are you doing wrong, Bella?"

"I'm _trying_, really I am, but it's not working. I don't know what to do anymore." She sounded heartbroken and about as defeated as I felt.

"You'll have to be more clear." My voice sounded harsher than I intended. Her hand stopped it's gentle ministrations and she flinched away from me.

"I'm trying to be a wife. A _proper___wife." I moved far too quickly and the room spun as I tried to gain my bearings.

"Whoever said I wanted a _proper_ wife?" I spat the word as though it were ugly and frowned at the sour taste it left in my mouth.

"I thought it was what you wanted." She shoved her dainty hand into her hair and pulled hard.

"Bella," saying her name came easier this time, "Bella, I never wanted that. What I want is you, your happiness, _our _happiness." I took her delicate, forlorn face into my hands and caressed her cheeks with a feather light touch.

She glanced at me quickly and looked away again, this time down at her hands twisting the fabric of her skirt. I brought my thumbs to her lips and tenderly began to wipe away the garish red lipstick. It smeared slightly around her mouth and I frowned as I concentrated harder, taking the knuckle of my index finger and smudging it against her bottom lip.

Taking my hands from her face I picked up the shirt she had been mending earlier and, against her protests, wiped the makeup from my hands on the stiff cotton fabric.

"Replaceable," I muttered, returning to my task. I smudged and smeared until the area around her mouth was slightly pink and her lips only a little bit darker red than their normal color. My fingers were tinted pink as well but I was beyond caring. She looked at me from beneath her lashes. Her eyes were teary and the soft upward curve of her lips gave me the hope I had thought was lost earlier in the night.

"Let me take care of you…" I removed the high-heeled shoes from her feet, my thumb brushed over the arch and she released a tiny giggle. '_It's been far too long since I've heard that sound._' It brought a tender smile to my face.

I moved an arm under her knees, the other slid behind her shoulders and in one swift move I was on my feet, her slender body cradled to my chest. She was feather light, delicate, and fit perfectly in the shelter of my arms.

Her little hand grabbed at the lapel of my suit jacket, crumpling the fabric and effectively wrinkling it. I let loose a laugh from deep within my chest. It seemed to startle her but I marveled at the warmth that spread through my body at the sound.

With steady strides, I made my way to the tiny bathroom just across the hall from our bedroom. I lightly tapped the door open with my foot and with my wife still safely ensconced in my arms, flicked the light switch. I frowned at the bathroom illuminated before me. It was small, I guess I never realized exactly how small it really was, but it would do for now.

I set Bella on the tiny white countertop, her little feet dangled and hit the cupboard underneath. I slid my arms from the jacket and tossed it into the hall before rolling up the sleeves of my shirt and removing the large watch from my wrist.

Bella watched with what I could only assume was curiosity when I pulled back the curtain from the tub. Crouching low, I turned the knobs until water spouted from the faucet. I waited until it was warm enough before plugging the drain.

Leaving the bathtub to fill, I turned to my wife. I took her gently from the counter, letting her stand on her own feet, and moved the strands of her hair to rest over her shoulder. I spun her slowly so her back faced me and took the delicate zipper of her dress in my fingers. Tugging gently until, inch by beautiful inch of her supple ivory skin was revealed to me.

I slipped my hands beneath the sleeves of her dress and moved my callused fingers down the alluring skin of her arms until the gentle silk of her dress pooled around her feet.

Taking the clasp of her bra, I released the hooks, sliding the straps down her arms until that too rested at her feet. The elastic had left an agitated red line and I smoothed the skin, massaging it to alleviate the harsh marks. Her shoulders slumped in response and a low moan escaped her lips.

I slid the pads of my fingertips down the gentle slope of her spine, stopping to rest at the band of undergarments. With a slight pull, they glided down the supple curves of her legs to join the growing pile on the floor.

She stood before me, bare and trembling, the most vulnerable I had seen her in the years of our marriage. I pressed my hand to her lower back and lead her to the tub. I helped her step over the lip, some of the water sloshing over the sides.

I helped her settle at the bottom, the water just barely grazing the tops of her breasts, and my breath caught in my throat at the simple sight of her. The gray wisps of steam snaked and curled through the air, diffusing the harsh florescent light and ensconcing her in a halo-like glow.

Her shy gaze reached my own through the veil of her lashes. The apples of her cheeks were crimson with embarrassment and it spread down over the pale column of her neck to fade into the water below.

Never taking my eyes from hers, I turned the knob for the water until it shut off completely. She sat with her knees pulled up, her back resting against the side of the tub with the ends of her hair twisting and twirling in the water.

Reaching into the little cupboard by the tub, I pulled out a washcloth. Bella watched me carefully as I dipped it into the water. I brought it to her hair and smoothed it back. She tilted her head back at the motion and her lips parted, releasing a simple exhale of air.

I brought the terry cloth down to her face, caressing her forehead, her eyelids and the gentle curve of her cheeks. Dipping it back into the water, I brought it to the delicate slope of her nose, over the lush pink of her lips, down to the point of her chin.

I watched a drop of water trail down her neck, dip and glide over the point of her collarbone and come to a rest at the rippling water between her breasts. My tongue darted out over my lips and I suppressed a groan of adoration for this creature sitting before me.

Returning to the task at hand, I brought the fabric down the column of her throat and over the pale skin of each shoulder. She released a shuddering breath as a corner of the cloth grazed the top of her breast.

I was brought from my enthralled state when the first tear fell from the sharp line of her jaw. My eyes darted to her face to find an abundance of the crystalline water gathered along her lashes. I dropped the terry cloth to sink to the bottom of the tub. Bringing my hands up, I cupped her face, my fingers framing her pretty features.

There was a stark contrast between my rough fingers against her delicate skin. I heard her shift and bring her hands from the water. She grabbed at my forearms, water gliding and dripping down from her smooth skin.

Her little fingers wrapped around the corded muscle of my arm. Her skin was pale where mine was tanned, I was scarred where she was fair. And yet, as I brought my hand from her face and slid her fragile fingers between mine so we were interlaced, I found we fit perfectly. A smile flitted at the corners of my mouth.

I brought my eyes back to hers, but her gaze was fixed on our hands. I leaned forward over the lip of the tub and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Her skin was unblemished and still damp and I let my lips linger there as I reveled in this simple moment of intimacy between us.

I returned to my position by the tub but our hands remained interlocked. I fished the cloth that had sunk near her hip and resumed washing her one-handed. The water eventually began to chill and I helped her stand and step out of the tub.

I pulled a large, fluffy towel from the same cupboard I had retrieved the washcloth from. Draping it over her shoulders, I rubbed at her arms through the cloth to warm her. When her arms were sufficiently dry and slightly pink from the friction, I brought the towel around her front and gently, I ran it over her collarbone, down to each breast, her nipples stiffening at the attention.

I noticed, as I paid far more attention than was necessary, that her left breast was larger than the right and they were perfect all the same. I continued lower, over her ribs and to her stomach. I pressed a kiss to her bellybutton and continued lower, toweling her hips and her outer thighs.

Kneeling before her now I was eye-level with the dark curly hair at the apex of her thighs. As I looked up at her, my hands clutching the towel stopped at the back of her knees, and she looked down upon me. Her cheeks were awash with a pretty blush and I thought in that moment that she was the most beautiful I had ever seen her. She was a breathtaking sight to behold and I knew, as long as I was of sane mind, I would cherish this image of her.

I dropped the towel and, swiftly with all the grace that I could muster, swept her into my arms. Careful that I did not knock her head on the door frame and, I made my way into our bedroom.

Gently, reverently, I laid her on our bed. The curtains were drawn back and moonlight filtered through the crooked limbs of the tree outside our window, bathing her in a soft glow. I grew nervous having this beautiful creature watching me. My palms were sweaty and my heart began its vicious palpitations again.

I brought my shaking hands to my tie and loosened the knot. It fell to the floor with a simple _wisp_. My once nimble fingers trembled and fumbled with my buttons. I pulled the tails of the shirt from my pants and let it slide slowly off my shoulders, over my arms and to the floor.

I undid the buckle of my belt and the button of my pants and stood before her in only my briefs. It was my turn to be vulnerable. While I was entirely nervous, I found this to be a most intimate act.

I thought of the few times we had made love before. There was a lot of fumbling and we both ended up more frustrated in the end than when we began. I was determined to rectify that tonight.

Her wide, chocolate eyes scanned my face and I brought an anxious hand to run through my wild hair. They moved to the slope of my neck and I knew my adams apple bobbed in nervous anticipation. She scanned my chest and I felt a little uneasy.

I did not have spectacular muscles, and the slight bulges at my waist showed just how much I enjoyed her cooking. I was not ashamed, I was just…me. I hoped she would except that.

Her perusal of me continued, following the trail of fine hairs that disappeared under the band of my briefs. My fingers twitched at my side. I was suddenly tempted to hide the prominent bulge in my shorts.

My eyes nervously flicked to the ceiling and then back to her. She was biting her bottom lip and watching my face intently. I licked my lips and searched for something to say but nothing fit the moment. With determination, I pulled the band of my briefs down over my hips and let them fall to a crumpled heap at my feet.

The surprisingly cool air swarmed around my straining member and I stifled a groan. I kneeled on the edge at the end of the bed. Her legs, having been closed and bent at the knee until now, spread and revealed the glistening dew clinging to her dark curls. It was not a provocative move, it was not meant to be sexual, it only revealed yet another vulnerable part of her.

I crawled the short expanse of the mattress until I hovered over her. It was an oddly awkward thing, to crawl. As soon as I settled myself between her legs, her gentle silken heat against my own, I sighed and hung my head. I did not hang it in shame or pleasure, but in relief.

My Bella, my _beautiful_ Bella, my _wife_, showed more love for me in this simple act of acceptance than she could ever have imagined. I lowered myself to my elbows and pressed a kiss to her mouth. My bottom lip nestled between hers and her top lip nestled between mine. We did not move, the gentle pressure of our lips was sufficient.

Her hands moved to my waist and settled softly on either side of my ribcage. The skin of her fingers was cool and dry. I released her mouth only to bury my face in her neck. She smelled clean and soft like soap and I pressed a shuddering kiss to her neck.

My name escaped her mouth in a gentle, quiet sigh and she shifted her hips against my own. Her slick heat moved against me and I clenched my teeth to keep from crying out in pleasure.

I slipped the head of my member down to her entrance and caught her stare, forcing her to look me in the eye, I slowly slid into her until she embraced me completely. Her eyes widened imperceptibly in an attempt to keep eye contact and a low moan escaped her throat.

Settling there for a moment, sheathed inside of her, strong and pulsing, I let her adjust to my girth as I adjusted to the feel of her surrounding me again. I pulled away, the suction tight around my member, before pushing back in. It was my turn to moan as she tossed her head back, the silken brown of her hair spread out on the white contrast of the pillow.

I continued at a slow pace, neither of us spoke, as we basked in the moment. Our upper bodies heaved together with the force of our breaths, the peaks of her breasts brushing at the hair of my chest.

Her nails dug sharp trails in my back. Her slender legs were wrapped tightly around my hips, her heels digging into the muscle of my bottom. I quickened my pace and she rose to meet every forceful thrust.

Her musical mewls and my deep grunts created a symphony of sexual noise that filled the room, surrounding us and swallowing our pulsing, sweaty bodies. I sensed her release was near, her movements becoming jerky and desperate.

A hoarse cry escaped her and she threw her head back again, her eyes clenched shut, her back arched, and her breasts crushed against my chest. It was beautiful and ethereal. I was sure, as my own release washed over me, that I did not look quite as magnificent, but she watched me just the same.

I laid there, softening inside her, my head against her shoulder, and breathed heavily. I marveled at this moment, a free giving of ourselves in a basic animalistic nature. Her hands ghosted through my hair and I finally rolled off of her only to slide my arm beneath her shoulders and cradle her to my chest.

We lay there, bathed in the moonlight and our own post-coital glow emanating to reach and meet and surpass the shine of the moon. I rested my lips against the soft hair at the crown of her head, my eyes closing as I breathed in deeply the scent of her.

I knew, despite the changes that had been made and had yet to come, that in this moment I loved her, my wife. Knowing this, caused my heart to twist painfully in my ribcage and beat ferociously against the pressure in my lungs. The Bella I had once known was different, but she was still beautiful all the same.

"I adore you," No truer words had I ever spoken.

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End Authors Note: Ta da! I started this June first, I finished it a couple weeks ago, and I've been avoiding looking at other entries because I'm afraid I haven't even come close to what I'm sure are some pretty brilliant stories.

I've studied the 1950's extensively for some of my college courses. I own a great deal of 1950's literature on "How to be a Good Housewife". I'm still not convinced a "Happy Housewife" ever existed in this era, simply because of the staggering numbers of women who were actually working at this time. If you'd like some websites or literature that touches on the 1950's housewife hit me up, I'd be happy to help.

If you can be honest without being mean I'd love to hear from you!

-AlyJ


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